


memory foam

by bloominghwa



Series: home is where the heart belongs [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Blink and you’ll miss it, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hongjoong is rich rich, Implied Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Implied Kim Hongjoong/Choi Jongho, Kang Yeosang is the cutest, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Minor Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Minor Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Self-Indulgent, Seonghwa is a CEO and fashion designer, Seonghwa is whipped for Yeosang, Yeosang also gives the best advice, Yeosang is a kindergarten teacher, Yunho is anxious, also struggling, i love seongsang and I miss them, no cake, seongsang loves tangled, theres little woosan in this, this is just a word vomit of seonghwa being in love with yeosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 06:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominghwa/pseuds/bloominghwa
Summary: Seonghwa has had a memory foam bed since he was young and loves to remember the little things that led up to where he is nowOr alternatively,Seonghwa is whipped for the one and only Kang Yeosang.





	memory foam

**Author's Note:**

> hello !! it’s been a while !!
> 
> college apps have been stressing me out and I literally wrote this story on a whim because I couldn’t fall asleep and I couldn’t continue writing my essays. this is not edited by the way.
> 
> anyways, this is basically just me being Seonghwa and loving the hell out of Yeosang.
> 
> also I’ve decided to kind of dedicate an account for my fics which is @bloominghwa

Sunlight filters into fluttering blinds tousled by the early morning breeze. The trumpets of early commuting cars rushing by the front of their house wake birds from their reveries, scattering consistent twittering flitting from tree to tree in the small neighborhood. Yeosang left the window open again yesterday.

The remaining stars rush back into the reddening morning sky, the last one winking once more upon the earth before joining its companions in the wait for another night to come. The sheets on the bed are messy and tangled, thrown to the side in the night and pooling at the foot of the bed. Seonghwa yawns as he leans against his arm upon the soft pillows, his other arm curling around the waist of another. He puffs a breath of air as he twists his supporting arm until it cards gently through the smaller’s soft brown hair, his index and middle finger twirling strands until they fall loose and drift back into place on Yeosang’s head. Smiling fondly down at the fluttering eyelashes and soft breath of his husband curled into his chest, Seonghwa kisses the crown of the nestled head, nose brushing against soft hair. There’s no distinct rose or fruity scent that they always seem to describe in books, but it smelled of Yeosang, and it smelled like home.

His fingers trace small patterns on the exposed skin of Yeosang’s waist, the other’s shirt having ridden up due to tumultuous sleep the night before. The warm skin under his cold fingers melts the early morning rustiness of his joints and the radiance of his little sunshine engulf Seonghwa’s chest with warmth. Yeosang’s small hands curl into the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt, fisting it in a way that reminds Seonghwa of his brother’s baby daughter. He remembers how Yeosang had cooed at the child, who held up her hands at him and smiled for the first time when Seonghwa’s brother invited them over. The baby was about seven weeks old, swaddled in bundles of blue and purple, and had never smiled or laughed even once yet, but when Yeosang leaned over the cradle with the mother’s smiling permission, the young eyes lit up and a small giggle bubbles from the chest of the child. The breath was taken out of the room almost immediately, everyone staring in awe of Yeosang, face decorated with a saccharine smile as he held a finger out with the baby’s small grasp tugging him closer. Seonghwa remembers the afternoon sunshower illuminating the peach golden curtains and an angelic quirk of the lips as Yeosang turned and excitedly said “I think she likes me!”

The shine in Yeosang’s eyes lay in the memory foam.

An abrupt beep disturbs the soft petting of Yeosang’s hair, Seonghwa’s hand involuntarily jerking in surprise and landing upon Yeosang’s head harder than he wanted. Wincing, Seonghwa draws his hand back, freezing in place as Yeosang groans and turns from his position until he is looking straight up at the ceiling. No further movement being made, Seonghwa places his hand carefully back into place. Admiring his husband’s sleeping face and humming softly, he dejectedly realizes that today Yeosang has work; a Monday, the bane of all days. He considers the merits of uncurling from his comfortable position and making breakfast, but taking in the gentle breaths coming from Yeosang’s open lips, he begins to gently shake the younger from his slumber.

“Yeosang, it's time to get up, my sunflower,” he whispers softly, stroking the other’s cheek with a featherlike touch, not wanting to disturb the peaceful expression resting upon his face.

Yeosang groans as he rolls back into Seonghwa, tucking his head under Seonghwa’s chin and burying his face into his neck. Rocking Yeosang more firmly this time, Seonghwa repeats his words with the same tone, a breath into the curve of Yeosang’s ear. Yeosang grips tighter to his shirt.

“M’ sleepy. Dun wanna get up.” A sleepy slur dribbles out of Yeosang’s mouth, muffled by the trembling skin of Seonghwa’s neck.

“If you don’t get up, the kids will miss you,” Seonghwa tenderly reminds him, jabbing an affectionate finger into the delicate skin of Yeosang’s stomach. “It’s already 8:20.”

“I wanna stay with you,” Yeosang responds, a sleepy pout curving into his words. Seonghwa looks down to see Yeosang rubbing his eyes, rims wet as he yawns quietly. The fond smile Seonghwa is so used to wearing comes back onto his face.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been raving about wanting to go back to the kids since Saturday.” Seonghwa begins to sit up only to be pulled down again by Yeosang.

“I only said that because you were being a dick !” Yeosang whines as he hits Seonghwa’s chest.

“I only called you cute when you’re eating, which I don’t think are the actions of a dick,” challenges Seonghwa with an eyebrow raised. Yeosang looks down and mumbles something vehemently.

“Hmm, what was that ? You have to speak up, angel.” Seonghwa teasingly tilts his ear towards Yeosang, a knowing twitch of his lips betraying his innocent face.

“I said you knew I was going to get flustered you asshole! I choked on my food and you laughed. You laughed!” Yeosang begins punching his chest and Seonghwa feigns a hurt expression.

“But I love it when you get all shy,” he sobs with an overexaggerated frown. “You get all red and cute and stuttery. It’s adorable.”

“I am so going to burn your toast today.” With a decisive humph, Yeosang rolls off of the bed, landing his feet with surprising coordination.

“You won’t.”

“Try me.”

“Wait no—”

A punctuating slam cuts of Seonghwa’s sentence. Seonghwa blinks at the closed door, a burst of laughter rising within his chest. He lies down again, arm cushioning his head as he traces the shape of his husband's back inside the memory foam. The soft curve of Yeosang’s back remains intact upon the bed, a small shape in the expanse of white. It’s adorable, Seonghwa smiles to himself, he’s adorable.

Sitting up from the bed himself, Seonghwa shakes his head and fixes his black hair. Yeosang had convinced him to dye it black again after months of sporting the blonde that Yeosang had requested. 

“I like the blonde,” Yeosang had hummed thoughtfully one night during a rerun of Tangled. “But I think I might like your black hair better.”

“You told me to dye it blonde to match your black hair you twat!” Seonghwa had seethed, so he kept the blonde until Yeosang had complained he didn’t want to sleep with a “scarecrow head” and wanted his husband back.

Seonghwa gathers the blankets and swollen sheets, airing them out before folding from corner to corner that heavy blanket he and Yeosang shared and placing it across the foot of the bed. He shuts the window as he passes by, opening the curtains so that the full morning sun could peek in and relay greetings. Walking to the bathroom with the remnants of sleepiness hanging above his eyes, he ruffles his hair once more, unsatisfied with how he looked, and takes out a razor from the mirrored cabinet, fixing himself once more and grabbing a blazer along with a crisp white button up and slacks and draping them over his forearm before heading out the bedroom.

Sizzling upon the stove and the huffing of the coffee machine permeates the house as Seonghwa makes it out of the hallway. Yeosang stands with his back facing Seonghwa as he searches the fridge, Seonghwa almost certain he has a sliver of tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrates on searching for the eggs. A toaster oven sits at the side, a small puff of steam rising from the crevice between the door and the body of the oven.

Sliding his clothes onto the couch, Seonghwa creeps up behind the silhouette of Yeosang’s lithe figure, a growing smile of mischief forming upon his face. He wraps his arms around Yeosang’s waist, the shorter letting out a noise of surprise as he bumps his head back against Seonghwa’s collarbone while Seonghwa rests a cheek upon his head.

“Good morning sunshine,” Seonghwa croons as he nuzzles against Yeosang’s hair.

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeosang replies flatly, leaning back into Seonghwa’s hold.

“I know sweetheart.” Turning Yeosang’s face around, Seonghwa places a kiss on his forehead as he cups the younger’s cheeks.

Yeosang flushes red as his eyes blow wide, almost dropping the eggs in his hands before struggling to return his expression to neutral. Chuckling, Seonghwa retreats to the front of the coffee machine, taking out two cups from the white cabinet above. Both cups are labeled ridiculously with childish drawings littering the blank cups. Large, angry bird eyebrows are prominent on one cup while the other holds small “hehetmons” as Yeosang likes to call them, and enormous flowers. Seonghwa remembers when they made the cups in a pottery class that Yunho had set them up with. Seonghwa had a crush that Yunho insisted upon and Seonghwa denied (honestly, how was he supposed to know that finding Yeosang absolutely gorgeous and apparently reminding the rest of his friends almost twenty four hours a day meant he had a crush?) and Yunho invited him and the rest of their friends to a pottery class to which they agreed initially, only to cancel one by one until it was only him and Yeosang left. Yeosang had texted him right when he was angrily messaging Yunho, asking him whether he was going to cancel too with a pouty emoji that left Seonghwa imagining Yeosang with a physical pout upon his pretty lips and looking up at him with impossibly sparkling eyes and— oh god. So on a whim, he texted back immediately, saying there was no way he was going to cancel and that pottery would be so fun. He lay in bed that night with an unsent ranting text laying in the message box for Yunho and the imprint of a blushing smiley emoji in the memory foam.

The coffee machine clicks and Seonghwa instinctively grasps the black handle, pouring an equal amount of coffee within each cup before moving along with both cups in one hand to the island, Yeosang tossing him a bottle of creamer as he stirs in copious amounts of sugar in both cups. Pouring in the creamer and continuing to stir, Seonghwa wonders why they drank coffee when he hated bitter things and Yeosang loved sweets. It’s a tradition, he supposes as he moves the creamer back into the fridge. 

Simultaneously the toaster dings and Yeosang switches the stove off, and Seonghwa watches as his husband drifts clumsily around the kitchen, almost dropping a plate as he takes it out of the cabinet and then proceeding to spill some eggs onto the stove as he attempts to pour them onto the plates. Seonghwa rushes over to steady the pan as it wobbles dangerously in Yeosang’s hold while he scrapes the remainder into his own plate. A grateful look is sent his way as Yeosang sets down the pan shakily and moves to grab the toast before setting both plates on the table. They eat their meal in silence, the birds still moving about from tree to tree outside and the start of the neighbor’s car breaking through the peace. Seonghwa reaches over occasionally, swiping at the crumbs that litter the corner of Yeosang’s lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Yeosang said between bites of his egg-covered toast.

“Like what?” Seonghwa questions, his fork stabbing through bits of egg as he himself takes a bite of his toast.

“Like— like you’re in love with me or something.”

“Sang, we’re married.”

“I know that!” Yeosang’s cheeks bloom red again as he angrily shoves another bite of toast into his mouth. Seonghwa laughs at Yeosang’s annoyance, bringing his thumb over the wipe another crumb from his lips only to have Yeosang poke his tongue out and attempt to lick his finger. Seonghwa drops his hand and stares a Yeosang with feigned exasperation, only to gain a cheeky smile back before Yeosang pushes his chair back. Sudden weight leans against Seonghwa’s side and Seonghwa shifts to support it as Yeosang rests his head on his shoulder. Seonghwa opts to rub his chin against Yeosang’s head, preferring not to get crumbs in Yeosang’s hair and being tracked down at work to face an army of kindergarteners. The smaller extends his neck so that he is fully nuzzling into Seonghwa now, almost like a cat when it wants attention. Seonghwa’s chest rumbles with a laugh before Yeosang pulls away, not before landing a small kiss under Seonghwa’s jaw and hugging his arm.

“You forgot to take out your tie again, stupid,” Yeosang smiles sweetly, tilting his head up so he could look into Seonghwa’s eyes. Mouth stuffed full of food, Seonghwa quirks an eyebrow at his husband, setting down his fork and pinching Yeosang’s nose painfully.

“Stop being so disrespectful, brat.” He mumbles after swallowing his bite. Yeosang’s nose scrunches as he pulls away, hands rubbing at the pinched spot while glaring ruefully at the offender. Seonghwa moves his hands away and places a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose before turning attention back to his unfinished toast. Yeosang huffs before the slide of chair legs against the floor signals his exit from the kitchen. Seonghwa sits and finishes his breakfast.

He stands and stacks his plate on Yeosang’s, placing the dishes and mugs into the sink, rinsing them, and pouring a decent amount of dish soap on it. Seonghwa smiles when he hears the shuffling of socks in the other room, the closet door opening and closing as Yeosang changes out of his pajamas. Shaking off the excess water off the plates and setting them in the dishwasher, he dries off his hands and casually pulls his T-shirt over his head and tugging on the white button up he had set on the couch, leaving the buttons open as he transitions to peeling off his sweatpants and pulling up his slacks. While he was buttoning up his dress pants, Yeosang reappears into the living room, hair in wavy curls and eyes dusted with shimmer. Seonghwa freezes from his position next to the couch, fixating at the large cable knit sweater draping over his husband’s already tiny frame, the collar of a familiar white button up peaking above the v-neckline as Yeosang covers his face with the sweater sleeves that went past his hands.

“For the love of— Button up your shirt, the curtains are open!” Yeosang rushes over to the window while chastising the half-naked Seonghwa standing in the middle of the living room. Cheeks burning, he hurriedly closes the curtains and waddles over to where Seonghwa stands, letting the sleeves pool around his wrists while tugging the bottom edges of the open shirt together, fingers fumbling over the clear buttons as he tries to help Seonghwa dress up. Yeosang’s head brushing against his cheek, Seonghwa instinctively rests his hands on Yeosang’s waist, thumb rubbing against the soft material of the gray fabric as he observes Yeosang button his shirt up clumsily.

“Didn’t want anyone else to see me, baby?” Seonghwa chuckles under his breath, teasingly pinching at the skin under the thick fabric of the sweater. Yeosang says nothing as he buttons the shirt all the way up and loops a thin black tie around Seonghwa’s neck. Deftly tying the fabric and tightening it snugly against Seonghwa’s neck, Yeosang pats his work with a proud smile light upon his face. Seonghwa pulls Yeosang closer into him, wrapping his arms fully around the thin waist of his husband, whispering his thanks before he sends a blushing Yeosang off with a kiss on the cheek.

Yeosang leaves the house with a reminder that Hongjoong would be arriving back from a trip with Jongho later that day, and Seonghwa hears San shout a greeting from the doorway before the door closes.

Shrugging on his suit jacket, Seonghwa let’s his mind hover over the white shirt that Yeosang chose to put on today. Yeosang had worn that shirt to a party that Wooyoung had dragged them to, nervously fiddling with the cuffs of the sleeves that hung past his hands. Seonghwa distinctly remembers Yeosang’s formerly pink hair swept off his forehead and the shirt forcibly unbuttoned until it exposed a good portion of his chest. Complicated earrings had looped through his ears (“You’ll look so hot with these on!” Wooyoung holds up several more silver and gold dangle earrings. Seonghwa watched Yeosang put them on with a nervous expression. He hated that Wooyoung was right.) and his boot-clad feet tapped the ground at a nervous tempo. Mingi had tapped Seonghwa’s shoulder after minutes into the party, whispering over the music, “Maybe you shouldn’t glare at everyone who even looks at Yeosang?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Seonghwa had hissed at Mingi before he brought a cup to his lips, staring down another girl who had attempted to approach Yeosang. Mingi shrugged before patting Seonghwa’s shoulder and leaving to grab some drinks and look for Yunho and San. Seonghwa grunted in bare acknowledgment as his gaze tracked down an obviously drunk jock that was sidling up next to the uncomfortable Yeosang.

“Hey babe,” the guy said, pinning Yeosang against the wall with a red solo cup in hand. “You’re too pretty to be here alone, why don’t you come with me and let’s see how pretty you can be in sheets hm?”

The man hiccuped straight into Yeosang’s face and Yeosang shrinks back against the wall, his face contorting in disgust. Seonghwa had shot to his feet immediately, already taking furious steps towards the man as he leaned in, dipping his lips dangerously close to Yeosang’s collar bone. Yeosang had scrunched his eyes closed as the drunk stranger trailed a hand up his thigh, but before Seonghwa could throw the man off of Yeosang, the smaller moved in a way that completely threw Seonghwa off. His leg lifting at inhuman speed, Yeosang landed a harsh kick between the jock’s legs, the perpetrator crumpling to the ground in pain. Yeosang whipped his head around before catching Seonghwa standing a distance away with his mouth dropped open and scampered over, practically leaping into Seonghwa as he begged softly to go home. Seonghwa had cradled the smaller into his arms, murmuring comforts into Yeosang’s temple as the other trembled slightly. 

The night was a frigid one, the moon hanging fully above them with the stars reaching desperately to be seen over streetlights and shadows. Yeosang had stumbled along while Seonghwa wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the smell of remaining alcohol hanging off of the white shirt and Seonghwa’s lips. Seonghwa remembers that he had quite the drinks at the party, and that Yeosang had refused almost any drink Wooyoung offered. He remembers feeling Yeosang’s pretty flushed lips as they brushed against his cheek in thanks when Seonghwa escorted him back to the dorms. Yeosang had asked with pink tipped ears whether he could stay over for the night, reasoning with a stutter that Wooyoung would probably bring San back with him, and Seonghwa in his hazy state agreed without much thought. He had given Yeosang a hoodie and sweatpants to change into while he steadied himself with a drink of water from the kitchen. The glass had almost slipped out from his grasp when Seonghwa saw a damp haired Yeosang coming out from the hall, drowning in his orange hoodie and legs exposed from mid thigh down.

“The pants are too big,” Yeosang said, facing the ground with fingers fiddling together. Seonghwa wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and had quickly sputtered out a reassurance before showing Yeosang his room to sleep in. With as much firmness as he could, Yeosang adorably established that he would refuse to sleep on the bed if Seonghwa didn’t sleep on the bed with him. Not that Seonghwa could’ve denied him anyways with his fists curling cutely under the too-big sleeves.

That night, the imprint of Yeosang’s curled body and soft gratitude lay in the memory foam.

Seonghwa is adjusting his cuffs when the phone rings, Yunho’s name flashing on his screen while a rendition of Perfect sung by Yeosang and him plays in the background. He drops his hand to watch it ring until it gets sent to voicemail, breathing a sigh of relief, only for it to buzz to life again immediately after. Groaning, he picks up.

“What do you want.”

“Hwa,” Yunho whines into the receiver, stretching out the “a” as long as possible. “You can’t say that to your best friend.”

Seonghwa scoffs but a small smile slowly creeps its way onto his face.

“Alright,  _ best friend _ , how can I help you?” He rolls up his sleeve and checks his watch, he still had a little bit of time before he needed to leave.

“Well-” Yunho starts, “well, I don’t know if I’m paranoid or not…”

He trails off, his voice becoming unlike the cheerful tone Seonghwa is used to. Seonghwa hums encouragingly for him to go on, his eyes softening at his friend’s distress.

“It’s just— you know Mingi and I have been together for a while now right?” Seonghwa nods in agreement, only to realize he was on his phone and needed to verbally reply.

“Yeah?”

“He just seems, I don’t know, off? These days at least,” Yunho continues, breath shuddering. “I mean, normally when I hug him he’s all smiley and kisses my nose or something but recently he’s just been really jumpy and brushing me off and—”

Static swallowing sounds over the phone and Seonghwa feels the obvious strain of each breath Yunho took. He mumbles a gentle “go on”, as he composed himself for the news to come.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to bring it up to him because what if we get into a fight? Or worse, what if he breaks up with me? I just, I don’t want what happened last time to happen again.” Voice watery now, Yunho takes a deep breath to steady himself. Seonghwa doesn’t take a second to hesitate, Yeosang’s advice ringing in his head as he prepares himself.

“Look, Yunho.” He starts, his firm voice already giving way slightly. “Remember when I was so insecure about Yeosang not returning any of my affection, and I was so scared that you had to comfort me in the bathroom? Remember how you made me talk to Yeosang about it, and he admitted that he was shy and wasn’t used to affection and hated getting stared at? If you think something is going on, you have to talk to Mingi. I know it’s hard and I know it’s scary, but you have to communicate if you want the relationship to work.”

“But what if—”

“Yunho. If he’s cheating then you know Yeosang and I would track him down.”

A breath of silence comes from the receiver. Hesitance prominent in his voice, Yunho chokes out a few more “what if”s, all shot down by Seonghwa’s definitive answer.

“Thank you for listening to me hyung.” A sniffle is heard and Seonghwa could visualize Yunho rubbing at his eyes. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too, best friend,” Seonghwa laughs as he hangs up, hearing the beginning of a sputtered “what” before the screen turns black.

He quickly checks his watch, eyes widening as he sees the time. Not wanting to get chewed out by his secretary (lord knows how yappy Woong gets sometimes), he grabs the keys from a drawer and slings his work bag over his shoulder and stumbles out with as much speed as he could, checking the stove and turning off the lights. He locks the front door and jogs out to his car as best he could with his shoes only halfway put on. Tossing the bag into the backseat, Seonghwa quickly slips on his shoes as pulls out of the driveway. His phone lights up again with a small ping, and he turns to see a good luck text from Yeosang with a photo attached. Smiling stupidly to himself, he turns his attention back to the road.

“You are so goddamn whipped,” Hongjoong groaned as he flops face first into Seonghwa’s memory foam bed. Seonghwa had stared at his phone all the way from school to his house, waiting for a text from Yeosang. Backpack slipping off his shoulders and discarded against his bed frame, Seonghwa kicks his foot up and rolls Hongjoong off his bed.

“First of all, I am not whipped, I just— need to make sure he’s not a shitty project partner that’s all.” His eyes never left his phone screen as he sat down cross-legged on his bed. Groaning, Hongjoong shot a glare at Seonghwa only to be ignored once again.

“You’re seriously telling me you’re not whipped when all you’ve been doing for the past few hours is stare at your phone?” Hongjoong rolled his eyes as he attempted to sit on Seonghwa’s bed again. Seonghwa had pushed him off when his butt got too close to the bed and he tumbled to the ground again. After a few moments of staring, Seonghwa gave up and threw his phone onto his pillow behind him, sighing as he pulled out his binders and prepared to study with the sulking Hongjoong, who ended up sitting on the floor with papers already scattered around him. 

A ping had sent Seonghwa’s binder flying off his bed, narrowly missing Hongjoong, and an unholy screech left Seonghwa’s lips as he twisted his body to grab his phone.

“What the fuck—” Hongjoong fell in surprise, the binder having flew past his head, and he was faced with a curled up Seonghwa dying on his bed.

“He-he said he looks forward to working with me and sent me the cutest fucking selfie,” Seonghwa sobbed, holding out his phone to display a picture of Yeosang holding up a peace sign with a kitten smile.

“Park Seonghwa, I swear I will kill you one day,” seethes Hongjoong as he leapt at the older on the bed. Needless to say, Seonghwa’s delight and blooming feelings were stuck in the memory foam that day.

Reaching the parking building of his office, Seonghwa lets himself fall into his professional persona, his soft expression dropping and his outfit iron straight, his hair swept back with not a single strand out of place. Fixing his cuffs once again, he straightens his tie and makes his way towards the building.

“Good morning, Mr. Park.” The man at the front desk greets, the security lady dipping her head respectfully alongside.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Seonghwa replies, a polite smile automatically forming. He brushes past cubicles of employees, some goofing off, others flirting, and a select few working. He clears his throat as he strolls past, the lax workers immediately scrambling to get back into their own space. He moves on.

“Mr. Park!” The loud voice of his secretary is what greets him when he walks into his office. “You have no clue just  _ how _ many absolutely  _ irritating _ clients I had to hold off today! I swear—”

“Woong, please,” Seonghwa sighs, rubbing at his temple as he sets his bag down. “Wait until you meet them face to face.”

“You’re right,” groans Hwanwoong, “I swear they get dumber each time they visit.”

“Business is business. Now get back to work.” Seonghwa sits down in his sleek office chair and pulls out his glasses, beginning to read through business deals with other companies. A model agency. An entertainment agency. Another fashion brand. The pen Seonghwa holds in his hand moving tenfold between forefinger and thumb, he feels the words blur before his eyes. Yeosang had encouraged him to go the fashion route, his eyes always glittering whenever Seonghwa revealed another picture of an outfit he planned out and needed fabric for. When Seonghwa hesitantly revealed his wish to go into fashion, Yeosang had gasped and his hand clapped together like an excited child.

“That’s so cool hyung! Imagine all the outfits you make going onto runways for Seoul Fashion Week! And Paris Fashion Week! I would totally buy from your brand!”

Seonghwa had to refrain from kissing him right then and there.

Going through document after document, Seonghwa suddenly recalls that he hadn’t checked Yeosang’s text yet, quickly pausing his work and slipping his cell phone out from his breast pocket. He is met with a photo of Yeosang with cake smears all over his face, candidly draping himself over Jongho as he attempts to paint his face with a fingerful of whipped cream. Hongjoong was in the background with his hoodie pulled tightly over his head as he is frozen in time with Yunho, waving streamers and mouths wide open with joy. Wooyoung was latched onto Jongho’s other side, lips puckered and face scrunched as he tried to give the youngest a kiss. San and Mingi were in the background, San blowing five party blowers in one go with his cheeks puffed and Mingi eternally frozen slipping on some confetti. Seonghwa feels fond memories that sunk into his memory foam resurface again, a wash of warmth rushing to his ear tips. He unlocks his phone, and opens his messages. A picture of Yeosang with an apron with a child latched to his side greets him, matching smiles on their faces.

“Boss,” Hwanwoong’s voice drifts past like a hurricane. “You have a meeting in twenty, and you’re smiling stupidly at your phone again.”

“Woong, I’m going to have you fired if you speak another word.”

“You got it, boss man.” The door slams before Seonghwa could say anything.

He rolls his eyes affectionately at his overbearing but hard-working secretary. Posing seriously for a return text, Seonghwa decides to tease Yeosang by biting his lip and loosening his tie, snapping a satisfactory picture and sending it with a heart attached. Another ping from Wooyoung alerts him as soon as the message sent. Curious, he opens it, only to see a picture of Yeosang with children piled on top of him, splayed starfish on the floor with his eyes scrunching from the weight and smiling joyously. God, he is so cute.

Seonghwa had to stop himself from giggling childishly and compose himself, saving the picture and turning off his phone. Yeosang had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, his affinity with children the purest thing Seonghwa has seen. Seonghwa remembers when Yunho told an anecdote of Yeosang finding a lost child on the road and staying with her when she timidly refused to leave her spot. Flustered, Yeosang denied having done so much for her, saying that he squatted and offered to bring her to the police station, gently persuading her to wait at the police station for her mother before rushing to his appointment with Yunho. Seonghwa swore Yeosang held the most adorable adoration in his eyes whenever they walked through the park, looking at the children clambering on the play structures.

“I like how carefree they are,” Yeosang mused thoughtfully when Seonghwa pointed out his expression. “They deserve to keep that innocence for as long as possible, and to grow up loved is what I want them all to experience.”

Seonghwa kept those words in a small book underneath his memory foam.

He continues his work until his meeting, which goes by in a blur, the ongoing droning of other representatives and powerpoint presentations by different divisions of his company melding into the backdrop of his other thoughts. Hwanwoong and him exchanged exasperated glances barely noticeable during every half hour the meeting went on. He finishes his day exhaustively, head spinning from the numbers and hands sore from planning out a new clothing line. His ears partially tuning out anything said to him, he waves goodbye at Hwanwoong, who packed up and poked his head in, notifying Seonghwa of his departure, Seonghwa himself having more emergency emails to reply to and several more to send out to manufacturing. 

He lets himself bury his head into his hands, blanking at his desk as he traces each shape in the memory foam. He remembers realizing he liked Yeosang and breaking down under his blankets when he found out. He remembers torturing himself and drowning in his own head for days, missing the broken looks Yeosang left him when he ignored the other. He remembers Jongho giving the soundest advice, to do what he thought was right and what would either end or begin a story between him and Yeosang.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he briefly reminds himself that Hongjoong and Jongho would arrive soon, hurriedly putting his laptop and more files into his bag before heading out the office. The offices are mostly empty now, the employees left finishing up projects or catching up on deadlines. He repeats his nods at the straight-backed security lady and the formal man at the front desk, passing through the automatic glass doors and meeting a breeze straight on. 

Rushing to the car, Seonghwa starts the engine and makes his way home, the moon following after and the neon signs as vibrant as always. The stars aren’t visible and Seonghwa feels a twinge of regret as he drives between the LED streetlights. The late night commute is much faster than in the morning, the highway most empty with only some sedans with tired office workers and pickup trucks with ladders and wires hanging off the back. A small minivan with a family coming back from a trip cruises alongside Seonghwa’s car, and Seonghwa takes note of the sleeping children in the back seat with the respective parents in the front talking and laughing casually. The streaked lights of the city illuminates the domesticity of the car, as if they drove alone, but there is a distinct lack of loneliness in the sparks of the parents’ eyes. They drive off of the next exit and Seonghwa is left on his own on the way home.

Pulling into the street they live, Seonghwa spots a flamboyant red Chevrolet Corvette parked on the driveway. He pulls in, knowing full well that Hongjoong and Jongho has already made themselves comfortable in the house.

“I’m home!” He calls, keys jingling as he set them back into the pristine white drawer. The muffled slapping of feet comes thundering down the hall and following soon after was a streak of white and grey pouncing onto him. He catches the weight with a loud “oof” and lets Yeosang hang off of him like a wet doll.

“Hi, I missed you.” Voice muffled by Seonghwa’s blazer, Yeosang let’s his feet drag onto the floor as Seonghwa supports most of his weight. “Hongjoong and Jongho are here by the way, and they bought chicken for dinner.”

Pulling Yeosang up, Seonghwa plants a kiss onto the shorter’s forehead and hums in agreement, letting Yeosang drag him into the living room.

“Hwa hyung is back,” Yeosang sings, pulling Seonghwa to the black couch and settling down, patting the seat next to him. Dropping his bag against the back of the couch, Seonghwa directs himself next to Yeosang, facing his vacationing friends that had been gone for several months. Jongho sits on top of Hongjoong’s lap, squishing the shorter into the love seat, but Hongjoong didn’t seem to mind the younger’s weight, wrapping the droopy-eyed Jongho in a hug as he sinks lower into the plush cushions.

“How was the trip?” Seonghwa whispers, eyeing the yawning Jongho who snuggles deeper into Hongjoong. Yeosang gathers plates and picks out pieces of chicken, passing a plate over to Seonghwa while questioning silently whether Hongjoong wanted some too. Hongjoong shakes his head, smiling lightly as he bounces Jongho in his lap.

“I think Jongho really enjoyed Taiwan honestly,” Hongjoong tilted his head thoughtfully. “He kept begging me to take him to the night markets every day and wouldn’t stop bugging me about the guavas. Haven’t seen him that happy in so long, it was kind of cute actually.”

“Shut up shorty hyung,” Jongho mumbles sleepily into Hongjoong’s chest. Hongjoong smacks him lightly on the arm with a pout but his gaze holds a warmth that reminded Seonghwa of the parents in the car. Seonghwa gestures with his eyes for Hongjoong to follow him, carefully prying his hands away from Yeosang as the other focuses on his chicken. Jongho complains sleepily as Hongjoong removes himself from underneath the youngest, grabbing at the tail end of Hongjoong’s coat only to have his fingers gently pried off. Hongjoong whispers something into his drowsy ear and he complies, pouting slightly before curling himself around a pillow instead.

Half-dragging Hongjoong into the kitchen, Seonghwa turns and makes sure that Jongho wasn’t following them before beginning to speak.

“You still haven’t told him have you,” Seonghwa states, placing his folded blazer onto the marble kitchen counter.

Hongjoong shakes his head somewhat shamefully, fiddling with the multiple rings that adorned his fingers. 

Seonghwa glances at the emptiness of his ring and pinky finger.

“Hongjoong, he deserves to know.” Placing a hand on top of the counter, Seonghwa leans against it, trying to catch Hongjoong’s eyes. “You brought him on a fucking trip. Just the two of you. He deserves to know.”

“He has someone else ok?” Hongjoong jerks his head up and looks at Seonghwa with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sure that he has—”

“And are you certain about that?” Seonghwa stands straighter. “Are you sure that he has someone else? Or are you just letting your own thoughts get into the way?”

“I—” Hongjoong lowers his head again the fire that burned briefly in his eyes extinguished. “I don’t know.”

“I can help you. Yeosang can help you. We just need you to help yourself now.”

A clink and a shuffle of feet turns both their heads. Yeosang walks into the kitchen with his hair ruffled and glasses crooked, plate in hand. Their eyes follow him as he moves towards the sink and places the plate down, rinsing it in water, and then heading to the counter where they stood. Yeosang grabs Hongjoong’s restless hands, forcing the elder to focus on him, and holds up the left hand that had rings missing from the ring and pinky finger.

“If you don’t think you can take care of him well enough, then you wouldn’t have left these two fingers empty for all these years.” Yeosang folds Hongjoong’s hand into a fist.

“If you think he would leave you, then he would not have tried so hard to stay with you when you were struggling.” Yeosang presses Hongjoong’s fist into his chest.

“It’s not him that has someone else, Hongjoong. It’s you who has been holding back for however long. You can’t see how much he cares because of your doubts and insecurities.” Yeosang drops his hand. “You are the one who bars any progress in the journey, and you need to stop it.”

Hongjoong is reduced to silence now, hand still against his chest and eyes still following Yeosang’s own. The saturated silence continues, a war between four. Dropping his hand, Hongjoong sighs. He heads back into the living room, gathering a sleeping Jongho into his arms and helping him sit up. Wobbling slightly from the weight, he stands looping an arm around Jongho’s waist as he drapes Jongho’s arm over his neck. Yeosang runs over, standing on Jongho’s other side and support a bit of the weight. Hongjoong smiles gratefully at the other, with Seonghwa trailing after them, helping open the door once they reach the entrance.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong whispers as he slips on his shoes after helping Jongho into his. “I’ll try my hardest from now on.”

Yeosang and Seonghwa exchange glances, each reflecting the same thought, and they smile and nod and wave goodbye as Hongjoong situates Jongho into the passenger seat, he himself going around to the drivers side. With one last wave and a toothy grin, the duo drive off into the darkness of the path ahead.

Seonghwa tugs Yeosang into his side as they make it back in, shutting the frigid wind outside. They don’t exchange words as they make their way through the hall and into the bedroom. Seonghwa presses another kiss to Yeosang’s cheek before he leaves, going to clean the dishes and pack the chicken up for tomorrow. Yeosang pouts but let’s Seonghwa go, stripping off the sweater and the button-up along with his jeans. He goes through the closet and picks up a shirt that belonged to Seonghwa, putting it on with a flustered, love struck expression stuck on his face. He puts on pajama shorts that show barely from beneath the oversized shirt and clambers onto the memory foam bed, sitting cross legged as he switches on the television in their room.

“Sangie baby,” Seonghwa says, walking in with his blazer draped over his arm and hands wiping on his pants. “Are you the reason why I can’t find any of my T-shirts recently?”

“You’re just forgetful,” Yeosang snarks back, fiddling with the remote as he flips through the movies available. Seonghwa scoffs almost unbelievably, but doesn’t say anything else as he walks into the closet.

Finding the movie that the both of them shared a love for, Yeosang selects it excitedly, pausing it at the Disney logo to wait for Seonghwa. Coming out of the closet with his own T-shirt and sweatpants, Seonghwa flops unceremoniously next to Yeosang, laying flat on his stomach with his face tilted towards the television.

“Tangled again huh? I hate how I can’t get mad at you for choosing this movie because I want to watch it too.” Seonghwa knocks his head against Yeosang’s hip cutely.

“You seemed stressed today,” Yeosang responds, moving his hand down to pat Seonghwa’s hair. “Stupid clients again?”

“Yup.”

Yeosang shifts down so that he’s lying flat too. Seonghwa tugs a fluffy throw over their shoulders and tucks a long body pillow under their arms, making it more comfortable to rest their chins on. Tilting his head slightly, Yeosang rests his head upon Seonghwa’s shoulder, unpausing the movie and watching the fireworks frame the glittering castle. The curtains flutter with the remainder of wind and the birds become silent, drowsy with the appearance of the blooming stars. A soft rustle of unknown still lays before them, but for now, all that matters is the adventures of Flynn Ryder and the hopeful Rapunzel.

They lay together, legs and hands intertwined upon the memory foam.

**Author's Note:**

> any comments you can leave below or sent to @bloominghwas


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